


you should've raised a baby girl; i should've been a better son

by Princex_N



Category: Bill & Ted (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bill's AFAB and uses he/him pronouns that's as specific as i can get lmao, Butch - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Conversations, Family Issues, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Issues, Homophobia, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Sex, Internal Conflict, Introspection, Name Changes, Pre-Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey, Queer Themes, Sexuality, Slurs, Transphobia, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29663790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princex_N/pseuds/Princex_N
Summary: Bill has never really doubted that his dad loves him though. Whenever he says it, it never really sounds like a lie.But sometimes... well, most of the time, Bill does wonder if his dad wouldstilllove him. Bill's pretty sure his dad has no idea who he is, and that he doesn't even really want to know. Sometimes he thinks about making his dad look, making him see and understand that Bill's not whatever kind of woman his dad thinks he is or wants him to be, but he's not sure if he believes that the love would stick if his dad ever actually saw.Does that still count as love? Bill's got no clue, but it's still all he's got.
Relationships: Bill S. Preston Esq. & Mr. Preston, Joanna/Bill S. Preston Esq., Ted "Theodore" Logan & Bill S. Preston Esq.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	you should've raised a baby girl; i should've been a better son

**Author's Note:**

> title from [MCR's song Mama](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fs7s1gmpPEY)
> 
> thinking about getting my name changed later this year; clearly i've got some feelings about it; got [a playlist here too](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6rn2xLpIU6dX0OZmA44K2i?si=tfDMESp8RLuIG_TyvZf25g) if you're interested

Bill knows that he's different from other people - boys and girls alike. He's pretty much always been walking a fine line somewhere in between; trying to turn all the worst parts of both into the best parts of himself. 

He picked out his name when he was fourteen years old and he's been using it ever since. By now most people use it without _too much_ issue; they come to whatever conclusions they like, but aside from the occasionally angry manager or customer who happened to know him back in elementary school, _mostly_ it doesn't give him a lot of trouble. So it's kind of only lately, with the band and all, that Bill's really been wondering if it's time to finally do all the paperwork stuff to make it all legal. 

Well, that's not right, he's been wondering for a while, but it's not like he had choices back in high school and he and Ted haven't exactly had a lot of money since they finished. They'd had to borrow some money for the apartment in the first place, and most of what they've made since then has split between trying to repay their dads and pay their new bills. They've only really had some spare cash recently, and Bill doesn't think he'd really want to use his dad's money for this anyway. 

He wants to get it done though, he really does. He'd mentioned it off-hand (well, he'd tried to make it seem that way at least) to Ted ages ago and he'd made a jar for them to set aside money in just for this. Bill got a thrill every time he saw the thing sitting out in their living room, but he could never quite look at it head on, even when he was the one putting change in it. Ever since Ted checked and told Bill he thinks they've finally got enough saved, those two feelings have only gotten way worse. 

It's like... Bill loves his name, the one _he_ picked - not the one he's still stuck using to sign all the adult stuff. It's _his,_ and every time he gets to say it out loud and hear it said right back to him, he loves it even more. 

He's also worried, though, because what if the judge dude thinks it's a _weird_ name and doesn't want to give it to him? Or if whatever cops are probably hanging around the courthouse try to cause problems while he's there? _Or_ what if the people who look at him weird because he doesn't look like the name he's got to sign _now_ are just gonna look at him _weirder_ because his real name doesn't match all the other official stuff he's not sure if he can change? 

It's bad weird. Totally bogus. He wants it, more than anything sometimes, he just wants it to be _easy_ for once. 

Unfortunately, he's Bill S. Preston Esquire - all the worst parts of both, and nothing's been easy for him once since the day he realized it. 

"I dunno, duder, I don't think it's that easy," Bill says, trying to explain this exact thing to Ted for maybe the billionth time, flicking the edges of the paper anxiously. He hasn't even started filling out the forms yet, even though he and Ted _had_ finally gotten the courage to go pick them up to start with. 

"Why not?" Ted asks, bobbing his head a little, patient like all the past times they've tried having this exact conversation. 

Bill shrugs loosely. "It's just," he tries, sets the papers aside just for something to do with his arms while he scrambles for words. "What if it's too much," he decides on, because that's it, right? Just another case of Bill being too much like he always is, causing problems he doesn't know how to solve time and time again. 

"Well," Ted says, "you also said it'll make a bunch easier, right? Like with resumes and contracts and stuff, cause you don't have to risk people hearing your old name and using that instead. And _also_ , people won't keep making you sign with it, so the bosses can't keep calling you it when they get mad or pretending to misprint your nametag. Plus-," 

"Yeah," Bill interrupts. "Yeah I know all that Ted, I don't mean _that_. But what if it just causes more problems instead? Like, people can," his voice catches in his throat, and he _hates it_ , because even though Bill doesn't really believe in any of that 'real man' stuff people like Captain Logan are always talking about it's also _different_ for Bill because he is what he is. "Right now, people can just pretend whatever they want about me, because it's not _really_ real, right? But if I make it real, then they can't just pretend to ignore it, so all the problems they could've pretended weren't real _are_ real, Ted. Then what?" 

He tries to say it all like a challenge, like something tough or angry because that's always been the easiest way to do it instead of just admitting that he's plain scared. It took them ages to get jobs because no one would hire them because of Bill. Ted gets his own brand of crap from people too, but at _least_ half the times they got beat up back in high school were Bill's fault. Someone who pegged him as not a regular dude even tried to hit Bill with a car once. It's not like he likes it, but it's way safer to be angry instead of scared, and he doubts any of it is going to stop or go away any time soon. Guess he's just lucky that Ted understands it all instead of getting upset by it. 

"Well, Bill," Ted says, calm in the face of Bill acting all defensive the same way he always is. "People _already_ have the problems, right? With you and with me. And for me, the ones who pretend still pretend, cause they don't actually care about what's real. Not for either of us. Bill _is_ your real name, dude, it's already all real. So, who cares what other people think about it? It's only up to _you_." 

He's gesturing big by the time he finishes talking, hair all wild around his face from how much energy he's got over it. Bill almost wants to cry at the sincerity of it, but he won't. Maybe he is kind of a fag, but he's tougher than that. 

"Ted, dude," he says instead, and he _does_ let himself lean forward to knock his head against Ted's shoulder with a little sigh. "You do have a most insightful point." 

"It's always hard, dude," Ted says, once he's done grinning over being called right. "I think most of the important stuff is. But, I'm totally here for you, dude. I'm not going anywhere." 

Bill finally manages to grin a little. "Me too, Ted," he says, and the smile only grows when they air guitar together. 

He wants it to be easy, and he knows that it won't be. Maybe it won't ever _get_ easy, but at least having friends like Ted makes it even a little bit easier to _hope_. 

* * *

Bill first realized that his dad doesn't _get_ him when he was in middle school. 

He and Ted spent that whole day at the thrift store. Bill had been lifting clothes from his dad and Ted here and there for a couple of years, but most of the clothes he'd had were still just _his_. That's why he'd been stuck wearing one of the shirts his mom had bought for him when he noticed that some football dude was totally staring at his chest in the library that day. 

It had made him feel weirdly heinous, and when he'd told Ted about it, he'd offered to just give Bill some more of his shirts to fix it. Bill had been the one who decided he was gathering up all the clothes that he didn't want anymore - the ones he knew didn't _fit_ him right even if they did size-wise - taking them to the thrift store, and starting all over from scratch. 

Ted tagged along cause he always does. Mostly he'd just helped Bill carry stuff and found all the largest sizes on the racks Bill couldn't see as easily. Bill's also pretty sure he'd helped pay for some of it even though he'd told him not to bother, especially once they had to go to the actual department store for stuff like the right underwear. They were in the middle of putting everything back in its new places in Bill's room when his dad had gotten home, taken it all in with a blank look on his face, and then sent Ted home early for one of the only times ever. 

"Sarah, what's going on?" he'd asked, and Bill had to sit on the edge of his bed and fidget impotently, torn somewhere between anxious and angry, while his dad marched around in front of him. "First you stole my razor to cut all your hair off. You've got your friends calling you by some boy's nickname, and now this?" 

"Nothing's going on, dad," Bill had said, because it's not like _he'd_ ever been good at explaining things. He didn't know _why_ he was doing any of it, he just knew that he wanted to, that he _had_ to. The fact that he was finally thinking about the fact that people get killed and kicked out of their houses for stuff like this hadn't made it any easier to think clearly at the questions. 

" _Sarah_ ," his dad sighed, and Bill had to bite his tongue to keep from flinching at the sound of it. " _Why_ are you doing this to me now?" 

It wasn't exactly a threat to get out of the house or else, but that hadn't stopped Bill's brain from scrambling for what options he had just in case. There weren't a lot. The anxiety and the realization had made him suddenly and fiercely _mad_ at the injustice of it all. 

"I'm not doing anything _to you_ , dad," Bill exclaimed, leaping to his feet and waving his arms emphatically. He'd been so angry at it all, but even then he couldn't help but notice how _good_ the new clothes fit him, and it was almost worth the fear. "It's not _about_ you, it's me. It's _mine_ , my clothes, my _name;_ I pick them because they're comfortable for _me_ \- it doesn't have anything to do with you." 

He'd known almost instantly that he should have just saved his breath, especially because bringing up his name had just made his dad's whole face tighten angrily instead of being whatever degree of worried it had looked before. 

"Your mother picked out that name for you," he'd snapped, not for the last time. "The two of us spent _ages_ deliberating over it." 

_I didn't ask_ , Bill almost growled back, but he hadn't because even then he'd known it wasn't fair of him. Even now, it's not like he hates the same his ma had given him, it just doesn't _fit_ him like a name is supposed to. Maybe his ma would have understood, or maybe she'd hate him for it just like his dad does. He'll never actually know. 

Instead, Bill had just huffed, shrugging angrily and crossing his arms to keep himself from saying any more. His dad had seethed just as hard, but the silence had at least succeeded in getting him to leave. 

By that next morning, it just became one of those things they never really talked about. Bill's dad glared or huffed whenever he saw Bill wasn't shaving (or _was_ , just his head instead of his legs or whatever) or was wearing his new clothes. He never really corrected anyone who called him Bill, but he'd never once used the name himself. He pulled out Bill's mom like a weapon in the occasional argument and still introduced Bill as his daughter to the few people who hadn't already seen him around. 

Bill has never really doubted that his dad loves him though. Whenever he says it, it never really sounds like a lie. 

But sometimes... well, most of the time, Bill does wonder if his dad would _still_ love him. Bill's pretty sure his dad has no idea who he is, and that he doesn't even really want to know. Sometimes he thinks about making his dad look, making him _see_ and understand that Bill's not whatever kind of woman his dad thinks he is or wants him to be, but he's not sure if he believes that the love would stick if his dad ever actually saw. 

Does that still count as love? Bill's got no clue, but it's still all he's got. 

* * *

The princesses are on board the same way Ted is, so Bill winds up talking to Missy first. He thinks maybe that's kind of a cop out, but she _is_ still his mom in a way, so it's got to count for something even _if_ he's technically just hiding from his dad. 

Sometimes Bill is pretty sure that _he's_ one of the reasons Dad even married Missy in the first place, just like out of some weird impulse to make him more girly somehow. The same way Captain Logan's always spewing stuff about the military showing Ted how to be a 'real man', but like the opposite. 

Instead, Missy's been more understanding than most people. She made him promise not to tell anyone when he'd asked her why back in high school, but she'd told him that she frequented certain bars before and met loads of other women and people like Bill. He doesn't think she really bothers to argue with Bill's dad about it, but at least she helps him out where she can. 

(At least she uses his _name_ if nothing else.) 

"So, what'd you want to talk about, Bill?" she's asking, tilting her head and lowering her sunglasses, like she's trying to be coy instead of anything serious. 

Bill can almost appreciate it, but unfortunately he's too nervous for it to make a real difference. "How'd you know I wanna talk about anything?" he fires back, even though just coming out and saying it would probably solve the uncertainty quicker. 

She laughs at it, but at least it doesn't sound mocking. "Aw, Bill, you know I love hanging out with you, but you almost never swing by just to say hi. Especially not without Ted." 

"Got me there," he admits with a wry little grin that fades in the face of his anxiety pretty quick. In a way it's easier to talk to Missy because she's kind of like him in certain ways, but for stuff like this her connection to his dad always seems to accidentally cancel all that out. "I, uh. Me and Ted have got a jar we've been setting aside money in? We think, well. We've _got_ enough money finally for me to do the paperwork to get my name changed." 

Her face lights up. "Oh, Bill! That's _wonderful!_ I'm so happy for you!" she exclaims, leaning in over the table to give him a hug. Bill returns it but also tries not to feel it too much, because despite all these years he's still kind of torn between looking at Missy like a mom or like a really hot babe _or_ in a kind of guilty _'isn't this what I'm supposed to be?'_ way. "When are you guys planning on going? This weekend?" 

He grimaces as he pulls back and settles into a slump back in his own seat. "Well, I mean, that's kind of the problem," he says, looking down at his hands between his splayed legs instead of at her anymore. "I _want_ to, real bad, you know? Just like I always have, but. I just get so nervous about it. Like maybe it _isn't_ worth it, because of my dad, or any adult dude really." 

He hears her sigh and tries not to flinch at it. There's _nothing_ worse than looking nervous or sad in front of a hot babe, even _if_ it's technically his mom. "Bill, listen to me," she says, grabbing him by the biceps and nudging him until he looks at her. "It's not _about_ anyone else, and it's not for anyone else either. Everything you do with your life is for you _alone_ , hear me? Lots of people are going to have lots to say, your father included, but you have to remember it's _not their life_. You don't owe any piece of it to anyone else, because _you're_ the one who has to live it, not them." 

She smiles at him a little bit, but it mostly just looks sad. "I've always thought it was funny how quickly you'd come to Ted's, or even my, defense even though you never seem to do the same for yourself. Maybe it isn't so surprising, really, but at least try to remember it, okay? If Ted ever wanted to do something like change his name, and he was worried about upsetting his dad, you'd never let that stop him, right? Don't let it stop you either." 

"Thanks Missy, I mean, Mom," he says, managing to lift the corner of his mouth into an approximation of a smile even though his chest feels _heinously_ tight from everything she just said. 

At least this time when she grins back there's actual humor behind it. "I appreciate that you're still trying," she jokes, and tweaks the bill of his cap a bit. "Just don't forget to keep trying for yourself too, yeah?" 

* * *

Bill had let Ted do the talking with the princesses when they'd met, same way they'd always done it with babes. Bill's better with people in a general sense but ever since that one time they both got the hell kicked out of them when some cheerleader accused Bill of 'tricking her' to some of the sports dudes she'd known, they've tried to play it safe. 

In general, they never had much luck. Ted _is_ the ladies' man between them, but people still spend a truly egregious amount of time calling him a fag, and Bill is just Bill so he's not much better. For the most part it never bothered them at least, they were mostly busy trying not to flunk out of school while trying to get their band off the ground, so it was mostly just fun exchanges instead of looking for anything serious. 

In that same way it had been kind of easy with the princesses when they'd first met because Bill had kind of assumed that them being from history meant they wouldn't have much of a shot with anything long term. Nothing more than a fun night with them, just the same as all the other historical figures. Then, of course, Rufus had brought them _out_ of history to stick around and Bill had wound up in a bit of a crisis instead. 

In their normal time Bill usually gets understood to a certain extent. People pick him out at 50 yards for one reason or another and that's just that, whether they're nice about it or not. But with the princesses Bill couldn't tell if they could read him that easily. He had no idea if there were even people like him back then in the first place. 

(Joan of Arc had known about him, at least. _He'd_ been the one she'd talked too all flustered about the uniforms the women working out at the mall wore, the conversation only a little garbled through the fact they didn't speak the same language. So maybe it wasn't _that_ different throughout time? They don't talk about people like Bill in history classes though, so how was he supposed to know?) 

That had meant that Bill had to _talk_ to her about it all, which had been one of the hardest things Bill's ever had to do. Not even because he didn't know how she'd react, or if he'd freak her out so bad she'd want to go back to a home they had no way of getting her to, but just because he didn't know what any of the right _words_ were. 

Bill's always known he's _different_ , he's just never been able to pin down how exactly. He grew up different from his mom and other girls, at first just because they never liked the same stuff, and then after Bill had shaved his head without really thinking about it he was just too dykey to be around. Kicked out of locker rooms and bathrooms, avoided like the plague, and laughed at by both girls and boys alike. 

After he'd met Ted and the two of them fell into place with each other like nothing else ever managed, Bill wondered if maybe that's what he was supposed to be instead? But even though the pronoun fit in the mouths of most people referring to him, Bill's not really sure any of the rest did. 

Bill doesn't really like it when dudes call him a babe and doesn't really like it when babes call him a dude (Ted could call him either because he's Ted; long hair and quiet admissions about things like earrings and nail polish - totally different from Bill but almost different in the same way as Bill too). He's not nearly woman enough to be one, but he's not quite man enough to be one of those either. He likes babes and doesn't especially care for dudes, he knows that (but sometimes he looks at Ted and can't tell good enough to know he _doesn't,_ either). 

He barely remembers how he'd explained himself to Liz and Jo the first time around, and it's not one of those things that have improved with age. Most of the time it doesn't actually bother him much. Bill doesn't know a lot of things, this just kind of joins those ranks. He knows what he likes; what he likes to be called, how he likes to be referred to, what he likes to look like. Those are the things that really matter, so he doesn't tear himself up too much trying to trace those back to some kind of conclusion. 

Most of the time at least. But sometimes he kind of wishes he _could_ know, like maybe if he was just better at explaining himself then it would be easier for other people to swallow. Like maybe his dad would finally be able to understand him, and the only reason he doesn't _now_ is because Bill's just not good enough (like usual). 

It's not _that_ simple though, Bill knows that. Even all those people who _do_ know exactly what they are and what to call themselves are getting everything Bill's gotten and worse. The only thing any of them can do is the best they can with what they've got, Bill included. 

Doesn't stop him from wishing he had a bit more to work with. 

* * *

"Dude, what if I'm making a mistake?" Bill asks, hunched over the paperwork in the living room, tapping a nervous beat on their shitty little coffee table with his pen. He knows that just because he's filling it out now doesn't mean he has to turn it in any time soon, but his hands are still shaking so they obviously don't care. 

"Why would you be?" Ted asks back, not bothering to come over into the living room properly, either because he's still in the middle of cooking dinner since it's his night or just because he's finally gotten tired of doing this with Bill, just like they had with the triumphant video conversation. 

"I don't know," Bill admits. "I still can't figure out if I'm a dude or a dyke or what - what if I choose wrong?" 

Bill hears the stove get turned down and hunches forward even more, leg kicking up bouncing from the nerves. "Dude," Ted says, coming to lean in the doorway so that Bill can see him even though Bill resolutely isn't looking. "You're not choosing. Your name is your name, dude - doesn't matter what you are. You don't have to pick anything to use it." 

Other people don't think so, but Bill doesn't bother pointing that out. Other people think a lot of things and he mostly doesn't care at all. Bill's just not sure why this _one_ thing is the one he can't seem to shake their thoughts off of. 

"Yeah maybe," Bill mutters, mostly just to give Ted a response so that he can go back to the kitchen without worrying. He doesn't know how convinced he is, still isn't sure if this is one of those things Bill is actually worried about or if it's just something other people _tell_ him he should be worried about. 

He makes himself keep filling out the paperwork anyway. Like he said, just because he's doing it doesn't mean he has to turn it in any time soon. 

* * *

Back when he and Ted had traveled through time for their history report, Bill had been weirdly relieved. He's still not sure if he really _gets_ all what Rufus had told them about the stuff the band's gonna go on to do, although it had been _most_ excellent to know that it was going to do _something_ at least. But, with this, he'd had that relief even before Rufus had explained that part at all. 

Rufus had called him Bill, like he knew, like it was easy. Bill hadn't had to introduce himself to correct it or make arguments or lies like he did with all the other adults he'd known back then, and if Rufus _was_ from the future, that meant that it all had to work out somehow. It meant that Bill's name was his and other people knew and actually listened to it more times than they didn't. 

( _Just make something up_ , Ted had told him when the other future dudes had been looking at them expectantly. Bill couldn't tell if they were looking because they thought he and Ted were trouble or like they were seeing something important, but just in case the only thing he could think to say was "Be excellent to each other" because isn't that what he wishes people would just do in the first place? Especially with him?)

He and Ted had both been majorly disappointed when Rufus left and didn't come back after the princesses. It had been kind of nice, for a grownup to talk to them for real for once. Actually _listening_ and talking with them instead of just yelling at them for being whatever it was people thought was wrong with them at the time. Bill sometimes wonders if them _asking_ him to stay would have made a difference, but no way could he risk something heinous like getting an outright no. 

Bill and Ted still talk about the future sometimes, with the princesses too, about the band and how important it's going to be. Bill never really forgets that part, but even though it's mostly what they mention out loud, it's never quite the first thing he thinks about either. 

Mostly when Bill thinks about the future he thinks about the people who called him _dude_ and _Bill_ and _gentlemen_ without a second's hesitation. People who talk to him like they don't know his old name and don't care to ask what it was. Who look at him and see who he is without bothering themselves about _what_ he is. 

Sometimes it feels impossible, whether that's because Bill got cornered by some cops or misnamed by his dad or some other angry superior, or even just a general bad mood. Every time Bill looks at those papers it's like looking at the very thing that's going to make the future happen and also the whole reason why that future can never happen. Do people like Bill even get happy endings? 

But the thing is that it _does_ happen. He knows it does, because he'd seen it, and because Rufus had come all the way back in time to tell them about it and make sure it happened. Sometimes it feels like the hardest thing Bill's ever done, but he tries to make sure he never loses sight of that.

The future _does_ happen. Despite all the trouble, and the pain and the discord, Bill still knows that at least he's got one. 

* * *

The paperwork is all filled out, they haven't had any accidents or unexpected bills eat up the money they have set aside, and now the only thing that's left to do is actually go and turn it in. 

Too bad Bill's pretty sure he's got to talk to his dad first. 

Part of him almost wonders if he does _really_ have to. It's not like he needs the permission or anything after all, and even though his dad never _uses_ his name he's known Bill's been using it for years now, so it's not like it's some secret either. His dad doesn't need to like, fill out the paperwork for him or anything cause Bill's already done that, and he can't find anywhere in the rules that says he has to be there either. So, if it's only going to cause problems to try and tell him beforehand, then maybe there _isn't_ a point in bringing it up at all. 

After all, Bill kind of doubts that the paperwork is going to make his dad use his name when all the years haven't changed his mind yet, so what's the point? 

Unfortunately, Bill can't seem to bring himself to do it that way. Even though maybe his dad _doesn't_ have any real impact on what Bill can and can't do anymore, it doesn't seem fair to just keep him in the dark like that. It makes it feel like something dirty or shameful, which is the last thing Bill wants to feel about something as important as this. That means he's got to talk to him, even though it probably won't take him anywhere good. 

In general, Bill tries to keep up with his dad as best as he can. He doesn't visit his house much, but he calls home at least once a week and tries to meet up where they can, and he listens to his dad talk about whatever he's been up to lately and they both try to ignore the parts of Bill they don't talk about. Maybe it's not fair to wait until they're sharing one of Bill's lunchbreaks out in public to have the conversation, but it feels like the safest way Bill can get in and out of the conversation without his dad yelling at him or storming off midway. 

(If there's anything about Bill's dad that works out alright for him it's that he doesn't want to cause too much _visible_ trouble. Ted's dad yells at him in public all he wants because he just doesn't care, but Bill's dad has always been different. Subtler. That's the only reason Captain Logan even _calls_ Bill that, cause Bill's dad never wants to correct other people when he hears them using the name, because that would mean drawing attention to it, which might be the only thing he wants _less_ than Bill using his real name in the first place.) 

(well, that, and sometimes Bill wonders if maybe his dad _does_ just worry about him. Like maybe he knows that calling Bill out to someone like Captain Logan is causing more trouble than just the social kind, more like the danger kind. Maybe the way he'd sigh and shout when Bill came home bruised and scraped up wasn't because he thought it was Bill's fault he got beat in the first place. Maybe he argues so hard against Bill being what he is just because he knows that people like Bill get killed all the time. They never talk about it though, so Bill never knows.) 

He doesn't bring any of the paperwork with him this time because that just feels like asking for more trouble than he's already asking for. He also doesn't bring Ted, even though he really wants to, or Joanna, which would be second best (Ted doesn't come because Bill never wants to drag him into the middle of stuff between him and his dad, because Captain Logan's been so odious that _any_ kind of argument makes Ted go stiff and pale now. Joanna doesn't come because Bill's dad has never quite been willing to look at her head on, not since he caught Bill kissing her goodnight, and Bill doesn't want to push his luck anymore than he totally already is). 

Instead it's just Bill and his dad and this huge thing between them that they never talk about, and it's times like this that he wishes he was a better daughter, or a better son, or whatever it is he's supposed to be. Wishes he was easier for his dad in whatever ways he could be. 

Sucks for both of them that he's not, though. Bill didn't exactly choose this hand either, it's just the one he got landed with. 

(Hell, maybe he _should_ hide it like his dad wants him to, the way he knows lots of other people do. Hide those cards close to his chest, change his clothes and shave his legs, pretend his whole life and spare himself the trouble. Bill's pretty sure that might fucking kill him though. Like, maybe this _could_ get him killed on its own, but he doubts he'd survive the pretending any better. He'd even tried for a bit, in little ways, like growing out his hair a bit right after high school, but even consoling himself by saying that _Ted_ had long hair hadn't made it any easier to look at himself in the mirror. Maybe it would be easier for some people, but Bill's never been good at meeting those expectations and he can't bring himself to push the closet any further than he already has.) 

"Hey. How've you been?" Bill's dad asks, and Bill can hear the little hitch in that sentence where his name's supposed to go. Maybe he should call it quits now and just count himself lucky with just that, the silence instead of the insistence on the name that makes Bill just a little sicker every time he hears it. 

"It's been good!" he says instead of that, but all the stuff he's _supposed_ to say instead gets tangled up in his throat before he can say it. 

Bill pushes too far, he always has. He and Ted talk strange and act even stranger. They nearly dropped out of high school for their band and only stuck around because Captain Logan threatened to ship Ted off to military school alone instead. They had to time travel to do a good job because there was no way they'd get it done on their own. He works shitty jobs at a couple of food stands instead of anything important like his dad wanted for him. Bill likes girls and doesn't look like one but can't really fit as a guy either. He's just _too much_ , all around. 

He's pretty sure he's been walking on eggshells for the past ten years of his life, just waiting to stumble across the one thing that'll finally crack the whole camel's back he's been balancing on. Waiting to find that one thing that will finally make his dad just hate him forever. 

He can't be sure if this is going to be the one, but he can't dismiss the fact that it _could_ be. 

"Sarah," his dad says, jolting him out of his thoughts like cold water to the face. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," Bill blurts quickly, because his dad's looking at him like something might be _really_ wrong and he doesn't want him to worry too bad. "I just. Me and Ted have been putting money aside for something, and we finally have enough." 

"Oh really?" dad asks, relaxing a bit and looking intrigued instead. Bill feels like he's gonna barf. "What for?" 

Can't back out now, dude. He digs his nails into his arms and make himself take a breath deep enough to say, "To get my name changed, like at the courts." 

Dead quiet. At least Captain Logan would've yelled by now and Bill would know exactly where he stood, instead of these frozen agonizing seconds where his dad doesn't speak, and Bill can't make himself look up at the guy's face to check what he might be thinking. 

Then he hears his dad sigh heavily, and Bill's whole body goes cold all over again. "I don't know why you need to push like this," he says quietly. "What is stopping you from just keeping on like you already have been, why do you insist on going out of your way to make things more difficult?" 

"It's not the same at all, dude," Bill mutters back. "And it's not even like I'm just throwing the other name away; that's what the S has always been. I'm not doing it just to cause a problem or hurt your feelings, or whatever it is you always think I'm doing. I'm just trying to do what's right for me." 

"You're going to wind up making a mistake." 

"I'm twenty," Bill snaps. "I think if I was going to realize I was doing it wrong it would've happened years ago by now. I don't think there's much about me changing at this point." 

His dad just shakes his head, and Bill can't quite tell if that's because he doesn't believe it or just doesn't want to. Bill wouldn't be surprised if his dad's just been hoping this whole time that Bill would just wake up normal one day. "Do whatever you want," he says lowly, and Bill hates it, he _hates_ that - he almost wishes his dad would just outright insult him or something. At least that way it would be easier to get angry instead of just drowning in the flood of guilt that statement always pulls out of him. 

His dad doesn't stick around much longer after that, after Bill's officially ruined the lunch or whatever by being a fuckup. He leaves cash for the meager bill and takes off, and Bill just sits there a while longer and tries not to cry because he's still got to go back to work again after this. 

He'd say it wasn't fair, but it's probably just his fault it's not. 

* * *

Bill's style and appearance wasn't much of a mystery to put together, it was just stuff that Bill had done without thinking, but it'd taken him just a bit longer to solve the fact that he was actually way into women. 

The feelings had always been there, he'd just thought they were normal - like that's just the way you were supposed to feel around friends or whatever. Bill always kind of played emotions close to his chest, so if it _was_ weird that he got jealous when his friends would talk about guys or that he dreamed about living in a house with _them_ instead of some imaginary husband then no one ever knew about it. It had only been around the same time that he'd met Ted that Bill finally realized that there _was_ actually a difference between the friendly and the romantic. 

Ted being around probably made the most difference in Bill's life over anything. He'd been the first person to call Bill _Bill_ , the only one who'd ever help insist to other people that _that's_ what he needed to be called. He was the one who asked why Bill _couldn't_ just dress the way he wanted, the one who taught him that he'd have to cut his hair before he shaved the rest of it off, who helped Bill figure out how to get his voice lower. Ted never thought Bill was weird, and he never though of Bill in any way Bill didn't already think of himself in first. 

He and Ted fit together like no one else Bill has ever known in his whole life. His dad sure doesn't understand him, and as much as Bill loved his ma she never really totally got him either. Ted's the one who really _gets_ Bill inside and out, who really looks at Bill and _sees_ him no matter what other people say. 

(Sometimes that, and how long it took to peel apart the differences in the feelings, means that Bill has no idea whether Ted is his most excellent friend or if he loves the man more than anyone else. Mixtapes and plans to live together, half-hearted thoughts of marriage if it could make certain things easier. He doesn't really think of other dudes the same way, it's always just been Ted. But Ted isn't just some dude, he's _Ted_ , so Bill's not sure if it would count in the first place. Bill's not sure if he'll ever really know, but he still thinks that Soulmates fits either way, doesn't it?)

Joanna isn't really too far behind though. Sometimes Bill does wonder if Ted and Liz are maybe better at it than him and Jo, but he knows it doesn't really make good sense to compare them, the same way it's not really fair to compare her to him and Ted. Still, on the more maudlin days he kind of half-wonders if it's not fair that she got landed with a dude like him. Liz lucked out big time, but Bill was just kind of the one left over. She never actually says anything like that, not during the occasional argument or when Bill tries to tell her that she doesn't _have_ to stay with him, so he tries to put it out of his mind. 

Most of the time they just kind of hang out, it's not _quite_ as effortless as it is with Ted but that doesn't make it any less good. He likes to listen to her drum and she likes watching him draw. He helps her paint her nails and she helps cut his hair when Ted's not around to do it. They don't really hold hands or anything like that, especially not in public - Bill doesn't get beat on as much as they did in high school anymore, but he'd never want to risk Jo getting caught in the crossfires of something like that. More often than not they just hang out in their apartments, and really only do dates in public when Ted and Liz are also around. Jo is undoubtedly different from Ted, but if he didn't already call _Ted_ his best friend, that's what he'd call her. 

Lately they've been up to a bit more than all that. Bill's not quite sure if it counts as 'real sex' since he never takes _his_ clothes off and he's not exactly working with the same equipment he's seen in mags, but that doesn't limit them too bad. It's also all moments snagged during the day - she never really spends the night or anything like that. Maybe it's ironic in a way, but they never do anything like sleep together in a literal fashion. 

Ted says Liz is waiting until they get married for real to do anything like it, but Bill knows that their circumstances aren't exactly the same. After all, unless he really pushed his luck and was able to lie on the paperwork somehow, he and Jo can't _actually_ get married the same way Ted and Liz will be able to. He'd tried to apologize for that when Jo had first brought up the topic of sex, but she'd said that wasn't what she meant and wouldn't hear a word of them. 

Regardless, Jo doesn't think she cares the same way Liz does about whether what they do counts as sex and Bill never thought it really mattered to him in the first place. They still kind of compromise and agree they'll do it 'for real' whenever they get 'married' alongside Ted and Liz though, so maybe there's that to look forward to. 

In the meantime, Bill can spend hours with Jo if she wants him to, making her come on his tongue over and over. It feels like something almost like worship, or maybe just absolution. Bill's not sure what he feels guilty for exactly, but it's almost easy to pretend he _isn't_ when he's doing such a good job at making her feel good. 

That's why he's kind of nervous at the thought of the 'for real' sex they're supposed to do after their 'marriage'. Despite all they have gotten up to, Jo never touches him back. Giving her head is nice, and they both enjoy it for sure, so he's never particularly stressed to switch their positions up (especially when she's already rocky on what other people like her sister might think of it). Every once in a while Bill gets worked up enough to rut against the bed or whatever surface they're working on, or to just jerk off through his clothes - biting his lip to keep quiet because he hates the sounds he makes, but he does all the work himself and doesn't mind it. He doesn't think he's really _opposed_ to her touching him or anything, like he doesn't think he'd hate it, but it just kind of feels safer this way. 

In the same vein, he worries about whether he'll ever actually manage to get naked alongside her either. He doesn't think he's _ugly_ or anything, but sometimes when he lets himself actually look at himself, stripped down to his boxers before he gets in the shower or whatever - _that's_ when Bill really gets thinking about how he's a real girlboy and not in a good way. All the worst parts of both and none of the good he can see in other people. Too much of both and not enough of either, like a total mistake instead of anything whole. 

Is he embarrassed? He's not sure. He doesn't actually know how much Jo really has to do with it all if he's being honest, a lot of it is probably just him. Bill doesn't exactly hate his body, but he also sometimes just doesn't like the look or the feel of it. He guesses that he's at least lucky that his clothes hide most of the parts he's just not sure about. 

Bill doesn't quite hate his body, but sometimes he's kind of afraid of it. The look of it and all the damage it can do and all the uncertainty it holds. 

In a way he almost doesn't mind - just another thing that is what it is, but he _does_ wish he could talk about it sometimes. Just to vent or maybe even to find some kind help. He can't talk to Joanna because the last thing he wants is to risk her thinking that _she's_ doing something wrong or whatever. He could maybe ask Ted, but he and Liz don't do that, and regardless of how in sync they always are, this might just be the one thing that can never quite match between them. Missy might know someone he could talk to, but Bill can't think of anything worse than this getting spread around, even if it _is_ just in search of someone who could give him a solution. 

When Bill was younger, like between middle school and high school, his dad used to say he'd always be there to talk to no matter what Bill might've gotten up to. He'd even believed it for a while; they'd had a couple of quick conversations about terminology he'd heard at school and hadn't understood, or other stuff like that. They'd gone well enough, Bill never really felt uncomfortable or weird bringing it up to start with. So sometimes when Bill's saying goodbye to Jo after getting her off, or when he's feeling heinous after jerking off through his boxers or something, or even when he's just thinking about it and feeling bogus, _sometimes_ Bill wants nothing more than to call his dad and ask for some help. 

But, of course, he can't. Because his dad had seen Bill kiss Joanna goodnight after a dinner they'd had right before Bill moved out. He wants to say that no way could it have been a _surprise_ , not after all that time, right? Regardless, he hadn't looked happy or teasing the way he'd seemed when Liz and Ted had done the same thing in front of him at an earlier dinner. 

No, when Bill's dad saw _him_ kiss his girlfriend he'd looked sad and sick and more disappointed than Bill had ever seen him look before. Even worse than every argument about the way Bill looked or talked about himself, and it made Bill feel like every inch the degenerate pervert people try to say people like him are. 

Bill would rather never get naked in front of another human being until he dies than put that look on his father's face a second time. 

Just another thing that is what it is, right?

* * *

Bill is just about to leave to go take the papers and the money down to the court place when he pauses just long enough to answer the phone. Ted's already waiting down in the car, but Bill hears Missy say that she's divorcing his dad and nearly calls it all off right then and there. 

He doesn't blame her or something, none of that part's really his business, so he just wishes her luck and tells her to call if she needs anything, then reminds her that she could ask him or the princesses if she needs some place to stay. _Then_ he hangs up the phone and nearly throws it across the room, because how is he supposed to go through with this when he knows that his dad is _already_ going to be worse off than he normally is? How is Bill supposed to finally go through with this when he knows he's only going to wind up making his dad worse? 

It's not exactly _normal_ , maybe, to try to protect your parents so much, but it's just what Bill has kinda always done. They'd had so much trouble with his mom when he was growing up that it always felt like it fell on Bill to make sure that no one had to worry about him, and later that just wound up turning into trying to make sure that his dad _never_ had to stress about Bill to any degree. Doing everything he could just to make sure he caused as few problems as he could manage just to avoid causing his dad any more grief. 

Missy and his dad's thing are their business, but now that Bill knows about it it's all he can do to keep from tearing up the papers and putting it off for at least a little bit longer. Just long enough to where his dad could be better on his feet, on more solid ground, and _then_ maybe Bill could go back to being a regular disappointment. People never believe it when they look at him, but Bill _tries_ so hard to keep from causing his dad trouble (same goes for Ted with his dad really, it's just that neither of them are too good at it apparently), and this is just going to be adding insult to the injury that Bill doesn't have anything to do with. 

"Bill?" Ted calls from the van. "You coming?" 

Bill squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think. What _would_ he say if Ted was in his shoes right now? Bill doesn't especially like Captain Logan, so it would be easy to say just forget him, it doesn't matter what's going on with him because Ted's life doesn't have anything to do with him in the first place. If Captain Logan gets pissed about Ted's business it's because he's _choosing_ to - no one makes him get that invested, no one pushes him to do anything about it except himself. 

Bill loves his dad though, even if they don't always get along, so it's _not_ that easy. It's not easy at all, but... but the thing is that Bill's done worse. He's done harder. He's dealt with things way more egregious - stuff his dad tried to be there for him through and stuff his dad had never even bothered pretending to care about. 

Right now, he feels sick down to his stomach, but he tries to think about how he's going to feel when it's all over instead. When he can sign his name for real, and not have to argue with managers about what name goes on his nametag and being able to pull out his driver's license and not hate the sight of it. He _knows_ that he'll think it's worth it, then. No matter _how_ hard it is right now to take that step, Bill knows for sure that he'll be grateful for it later. 

So Bill grits his teeth, puts the phone back in the receiver and chooses not to call his dad yet even though he knows he probably should. 

"Coming!" he calls down to Ted instead, and flinches at how the worries feel like broken glass crunched up in his chest. 

Based on the worried look he gets as he climbs into the car, Ted can hear or see the feeling Bill's trying to squash down. "Is everything okay?" he asks when Bill grips the steering wheel hard enough to make his knuckles go white. 

"My dad's getting a divorce," Bill tells him, and Ted blinks in surprise. "I'm, dude, this, like me doing this, is going to make him so much worse." 

At least Ted looks just as bummed as Bill does at the news, and he's just as hesitant to ask, "Do you want to wait? Like do you want to go see him before we go?" 

Bill's tempted, because that's what it feels like he _should_ do, that's what a good kid would do at least, right? The problem is that Bill's pretty sure that even the best intentions wouldn't make that a good idea. 

"Dude, I think that if I don't get this done right now I'll let my dad talk me out of it forever," he admits, and hates it. Bill _knows_ he's not doing anything bad but saying it out like that makes him feel like he's doing something totally egregious. To a certain extent he knows that's not fair to himself, but the feeling is still there, coiling at the base of his throat and making him want to gag. Bill wants to be a good person almost more than anything else, so he wishes that just being himself didn't always feel like committing some heinous crime. 

Ted doesn't seem to have the same problem. He just nods, slow and careful while he thinks. "Well, then let's go do it," he says finally, voice firm and gentle in every way Bill needs to hear. "We can go do the papers, and then after we can go check on your dad. If he's really busted up about Missy, then we don't have to tell him straight away, right? It's not like keeping a secret if you already _told_ him you were doing it." After another second's hesitation he tags on, "It's also not lying if he just doesn't ask." 

Bill snorts a little, the vice around his throat loosening just a bit. "You don't think it's heinous of me?" he can't help but ask, glancing over just long enough to see Ted's expression soften. 

"No way, Bill," Ted says, voice and expression wide open in a way Bill can never quite manage. "You've been waiting to do this for ages, and it's not your fault your dad is going through it, dude. You don't have to keep punishing yourself for it." 

Bill bites his tongue hard enough to hurt and stares at his hands on the wheel for way too long, but Ted just sits there through it and doesn't move, and _finally_ Bill gets himself to nod, swallowing thickly. "You're right," he says, because Ted _is_ right, cutting straight through to the heart of the issue with the greatest of ease. "You're totally right, dude." 

He takes another deep breath. "Okay, he says, throwing the van into reverse. "Let's go do it." 

Bill's terrified out of his mind, but the choice still feels like breathing clear for the first time in years. 

**Author's Note:**

> now you may ask yourself 'well is bill a dude or a dyke?' and unfortunately for all of us this is based Purely on my own experiences and i still could not tell you for the life of me; closest i've got is butch, that's just is how it is sometimes!! 
> 
> [my tumblr](https://www.princex-n.tumblr.com)


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